


Handyman

by Plastron



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Arguing, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Fondling, Garage, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Sex, Sex on a Car, argument, mechanic work, sex in a garage, small lover's quarrel, stuck, tail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plastron/pseuds/Plastron
Summary: Set in the 2k3 show:Don throws himself into repairs and maintenance after the Triceraton invasion. He's too proud to ask anyone for help, but Raph always has his back in more ways than one. Kinky on-the-Battle-Shell sex ensues.
Relationships: Donatello/Raphael, Raphael/Donatello
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Handyman

**Author's Note:**

> There's a drawing that goes with this (embedded at the end). I'll finish it soon and post it when I do!

Handyman

Raph recognized that look on Don’s face: the rare but recognizable quirk of the ridge over one eye, the slight smirk playing at the genius’ lips. Don usually acted as a gentle voice of reason in the lair, but sometimes his pride got the better of him.

Raph cringed when he thought about the two major reasons why Don might carry himself that way, why his mate’s chest might be puffed out just a little more, or why a tune might be hummed by that soft voice as the olive turtle strode through the lair… reason one: it was check-up day and Dr. Donatello was in office. Reason two: Something had broke (not Don’s fault), and Don leapt at the chance to make himself even more useful than usual.

He rubbed the inside of his elbow with a shudder, remembering that they’d gotten their flu inoculation just a few weeks prior with a full physical check-up. (“Jeez, I hate needles,” Raph had complained. He still owed Don for tricking him by asking him what his favorite amusement park ride was. As if Raph had ever been to an amusement park topside to ride all of ‘em, he’d barked, only to be stuck by a needle for his momentary distraction…)

So, Raph knew that his mate’s cheery bluster had to be the second reason.

Leo and Mikey weren’t great with machinery or repairs. They all knew it. Raph was Don’s go-to guy for help with repairs. As Don hurried past Raph in the hall, arms just a little too full of tools, Raph decided he’d follow him into the garage to see what was going on.

“Hey, Donnie, ya need a hand?” Raph called, jogging to catch up.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Don replied airily. “Don’t worry, Raphie, I’ve got this covered.”

“Well, ain’t cha wantin’…I dunno, some company or somethin’?” Raph rubbed the back of his neck. Don had been busy lately with a variety of projects, and he’d been checking in with Leo as they tracked potential remnants of the Triceraton threat for the past week. That meant several nights Raph had spent alone in his hammock, wondering how much longer Don would wave him off as he locked himself inside his lab.

Don dropped the heap of tools down on his worktable with a thud, letting out a sigh of relief. He turned to Raph with a positively infuriating air of dismissal.

“Nah… it’s an easy air filter replacement and engine tune up,” Don canted his hip as he patted himself on the chest. “Nothing the resident handyman can’t take care of.”

Raph really hated it when Don got like this, however rare. It reminded Raph that Don WAS still just as young and headstrong as the others; it made Raph feel less like Don’s mate and more like his overprotective older brother. Sure, he was both… but, ever since Donnie’d been held hostage by the Triceratons, Raph was the one who’d been missing their intimacy.

Biting the inside of his lip in irritation, Raph tried for a more relaxed approach. “Well, fine, but don’t forget that ‘The Resident Handyman’ has plenty a’ willin’ an’ ready backup. Plus,” Raph couldn’t help himself. “Ya ain’t been sleepin’ much lately…uh, yanno?”

“I don’t need that much sleep,” Don waved him off, kicking the safety brake off of the table and rolling it over to the Battle Shell. He opened the hood with some effort, not even turning to look at Raph as he talked. “Besides, I’ve gotta make sure all of our equipment is in top shape. Our threats have only increased since the big invasion.”

Raph rolled his eyes. “Right, yeah.”

Don was already engrossed in his job, half of his body poking down inside the hood of the large vehicle. Despite his growing irritation with Don, Raph couldn’t help but notice his mate’s round bottom jutted out, his short tail idly wagging side to side as it often did when Don was concentrating on something.

Raph grabbed the step stool and unfolded it, placing it behind Don with a small clatter. “Booster at yer six,” Raph grumbled.

Don had been up on his tiptoes before he’d hoisted himself up over the lip of the Battle Shell’s front. He peered down over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I didn’t need that, yet.”

“Yet. Don’t go ignorin’ basic safety just because yer on some kinda high horse work frenzy, Donnie-boy.” Raph replied with a chuckle. He couldn’t stay annoyed at Don very long; not when Don’s round face had some oil smudges on his cheek and his mouth was pulled up into a pout.

And especially not when his round bottom was canted up with the muscles in his olive thighs straining to hold himself steady.

“Fine,” Don huffed. “If you insist on helping, at least hand me the pipe wrench, will you?” He turned, his head and shoulders disappearing again under the hood, holding out his left hand to receive the wrench.

“With pleasure,” Raph smirked, handing him a cloth to wipe his face and hands, first.

Don’s head shot up when he felt the soft cloth touch his palm instead of the expected tool, and he wrinkled his beak in irritation. “Raph, I know what I’m doing,”

“Thought ya’d need it, that’s all,” Raph shrugged. He held up the pipe wrench to show Don that he still retrieved what the olive turtle had asked for.

Don grabbed tossed the cloth onto the step stool behind him, his toes still barely brushing the ground as he relied on his weight balanced on the rim of the Battle Shell’s engine cavity. He didn’t bother to wipe his face or hands, and grabbed the pipe wrench impatiently from Raph’s hand.

“Well, I’m fine,” Don grunted, placing the wrench around a particularly stubborn rusted nut around the edge of the filter housing and pulling on the handle. “Agh…this thing is really rusted on…”

“I ain’t sayin’ ya ain’t ‘fine,’ Donnie. Quit gettin’ all pissy.”

“I’m just… erghh… saying, you don’t need…to treat me like I need...ngh-! Protecti-!” Don caught himself as soon as he realized what he’d said, looking back at Raph with no small amount of surprise and embarrassment. “I, I mean, ‘help,’ that’s what I mean,” But his eyes widened and he stammered, cheeks coloring pink with the effort of pulling at the rusted metal piece and shame. “I mean-! Assistance-!” He strained as the stubborn rusty nut popped loose.

Raph folded his arms across his chest. “So dat’s what this is all about, huh? The Triceraton invasion…” He frowned, hearing the unfortunate click and clack of the nut falling out of the wrench’s hold and, by the sound of it, into a lower portion of the engine cavity. It came to a stop with a ding.

“Oh, shell.” Don snapped, poking his face deeper into the engine compartment. “You’re distracting me, Raph.”

“Or talkin’ some sense into ya,” Raph shot back. “Donnie, no one thinks ya need protectin.’ The fact is, ya been workin’ like crazy since the whole Triceraton invasion happened.”

“I’ve got no choice, really,” Came Don’s retort. He kicked his legs up, using the momentum to boost himself up higher onto the edge of the front bumper.

Raph caught the step stool, preventing it from falling over when Don’s foot knocked it out of the way.

“If they come back, it might be easier for them next time. They don’t exactly seem to be interested in peaceful retreat.” Don grunted, his upper body completely obscured as he leaned far into the cavity beneath the hood. “I’m just…ngh…being prepared, that’s all!”

“Yeah, but what good’s all this preparation gonna do ya if you’re run ragged if or when they actually come back. Can’t ya just enjoy livin’ in the here an’ now for a little?”

“If this is about me being too busy to spend some private time with you,” Don let out a curse when he hit his head on something. The light reflecting off of the hood indicated Don had turned on his flashlight to get a better look. “…I’d be glad to, but only after everything is in good condition, and—Oh. Damn.”

“What? What’s the matter, now?” Raph grumbled.

“I see where the nut fell. It’s between backup batteries 2A and 3C. But I’d have to take the filter housing out completely, and shift the coolant well to get to it. That’ll take forever,” Don groaned.

“Well, hang on…” Raph rummaged through the tools and grabbed a pair of extended metal tongs. “Why don’t ya use this?”

Don didn’t even bother looking. He waved his hand at Raph. “Nah. I think I can get to it…”

“Don, c’mon, can’t ya just use another nut?”

“I could, but you know it’s going to drive me crazy knowing it’s clanking around! Besides, I’ve been low on extra supplies for a while. We haven’t had a chance to make a topside shopping run for the past month.”

Don was dangerously close to falling headfirst into the cavity. His hips were bent over the lip of the bumper, and he pushed his legs out to counter balance himself as he stretched even further to reach for the lost nut.

“Last time I looked ‘neath the hood, it looked pretty tight. Why don’t ya just use these tongs—“

Raph stepped up onto the stool to get a look over Don’s shoulder just as Don wriggled his hand down between the filter housing and the large batteries, snugly secured into the compartment with custom-soldered frames. It wasn’t easy, as Don’s turtle hands already had thick fingers, and even wider palms.

“Mghh, I’ve almost…got it.”

Raph grabbed the back of Don’s belt when he nearly fell face first into the engine block itself.

“I told ya, yer hand’s gonna get stuck, Donnie. Just forget the stupid thing.” Raph warned.

Irritated at being touched suddenly, Don swatted Raph’s hands away.

“No, hnngh-! It won’t, Raph!” Don grunted stubbornly, just as he lost his balance and tipped forward a little too far. His weight came down on his hand, which popped down between the filter and batteries.

Raph instinctively grabbed the back of his belt again, to keep Don from cutting his face on some of the sharper parts sticking up.

“You worry too much,” Don chided, feeling around for the lost metal piece. “I got it! Hah!”

“Yeah, fine… Good job, you’re a real freakin’ expert handyman,” Raph muttered, putting the metal tongs back with the other tools.

“Now can ya get yer face outta there so we can at least have a little talk about this Triceraton paranoia ya got?”

Turning, Raph was surprised to see Don’s ass sticking up in the air, hips pressed against the front bumper of the Battle Shell.

As he watched, Don scraped his toes against the grate, wiggling his lower body.

“Uh, Don?”

Don didn’t answer.

“Are ya hurt?”

“…no.” Don shifted a little, his thighs spreading wider as he gave a tug backwards.

“Yer hand’s stuck, ain’t it?”

There was a dull thud, and Don bent one of his knees to brace his foot against the front of the Battle Shell. His thigh muscles strained, visibly bulging slightly under his olive skin as he pushed against it, before he hung limp again.

“…yeah.” He admitted, his voice small. “And please spare me the ‘I told you so’ talk.”

Raph hurried over, stepping up on the stool so he could look down into the engine compartment. Don’s hand seemed to disappear between two (thankfully, smooth) pieces of metal, his palm and fingers too wide to fit back through the narrow opening.

Raph reached down and carefully gripped Don’s forearm, trying to shift his position in order to free his hand. Don made a small pained sound in his throat when Raph pulled a little too hard on his wrist.

“Ya ain’t still holdin’ onto the nut, are ya?” Raph grumbled, seeing that the olive turtle’s hand was completely trapped in the cavity below.

“No, and I’m trying to keep my thumb tucked into my palm. This is as narrow as I can make my hand.” Don snapped, somewhat annoyed that Raph thought he would be doing something to impede his efforts to free himself. He tugged at his trapped hand again with no success.

Letting out an exasperated huff, Raph jumped down. “Lemme get some grease.”

“I really think we should just take the casings apart! I don’t want to make a mess.” Don hesitated when he heard the sound of the door open and close again.

“Raph? I’ve got all of the automotive lube in the cabinet, you don’t have to-- Raph?!”

No answer. Don sighed and tried to make himself more comfortable, but the position was starting to make his legs tired, straining to keep his toes on the lip of the battle shell’s front bumper. He couldn’t find a comfortable balance between his upper body and his legs; He was feeling a little sore on his belly from his body weight pushing his plastron against the edge of the engine compartment.

He didn’t need to wait long for Raph to return.

Upon hearing the door to the garage open and shut again, Don strained to lift his head high enough to look over the edge of the engine compartment. Raph was striding towards him with a strange look on his face.

“I was trying to tell you that I’ve got plenty of grease and automotive lubricants in the cabinets in here, but you ran out so quickly.”

“Had ta get somethin’ that was guaranteed to be safe fer yer skin, didn’t I?” Raph smirked, holding up a tube of personal lubricant. Don recognized it immediately; it came from his bedroom.

“Auto grease wouldn’t have been unsafe for my wri--” Don stopped mid sentence when he realized what Raph was referring to. “H-hold on-”

But Raph was already hungrily eyeing Don’s vulnerable backside.

“Uh oh, looks like ya left yerself wide open, Donnie. What if the Triceratons attacked right now? Yer the one who’s takin’ on all the responsibilities, but ain’t this paintin’ a different picture?” Raph poked at the crease between Don’s thigh and butt cheek.  
Don yelped as the soft touch sent shivers up and down his spine. His tail twitched at the ticklish caress. To his mortification, he couldn’t squirm away from Raph’s teasing touch, as he found that any movement in any direction pulled at his trapped hand and wrist.

He…really was at Raph’s mercy, wasn’t he?

Raph stopped poking and pinching at Don’s upper thigh just long enough for Don to let out a gurgling moan; half-churring in his throat at the stimulation to his sensitive backside. He bit his lip to stop the sound, but it was too late. And the draft of cool air against his lifted tail told him that his mate could see beneath, to the peach-colored underside and his exposed hole.

“Hm. Gettin’ a look beneath the hood. Let’s see if everything is in workin’ order,” Raph teased, in a low gravelly husk that was reserved exclusively for their bedroom activities.

Don could practically feel his mate’s eyes appraising his ass, lingering on his tight pink opening, could feel his gaze roving down over his rapidly-bulging slit as the cartilage in his lower plastron parted—

Raph blew lightly over Don’s backside, then against his slit. His breath, cooled in the chilled air of the garage, played over the slick head of Don’s barely-concealed penis. Don let out a strangled moan as his erection dropped down.

“Ngh…Ahhh…Raph-!” Don cried out, squirming as much as he dared. Well, as much as he could manage with his upper half tethered over the engine. His voice came out high and reedy, and if Raph didn’t have several inches of Don’s erection in his palm, the other turtle would’ve been able to tell Don was hopelessly aroused by his breathless voice alone.

Raph lightly gripped Don’s shaft and stroked him, giving an aggressive yank and a teasingly light twist of his forefinger and thumb over the head as he released the swollen organ. Don thrashed uselessly, biting his lower lip as he grunted in frustration.

Rubbing the precum he gathered from Don’s cock between his fingers, Raph stroked his own hard dick, mixing the slick fluids as he jerked off. He felt his penis twitch, looked down with a gaping mouth at himself as the fat head of his arousal swelled even more under his own touch. He leered at Don’s vulnerable ass again, admired how the soft olive skin bunched and jiggled as his mate tried in vain to pull himself free. Or hump the front of the Battle Shell; Raph wasn’t really certain which it was, but it hardly mattered when they both obviously wanted the same thing.

“I can see ya need some release there, but if ya wanna keep bein’ stubborn I can let ya handle everything yerself.” Raph teased, voice low and dangerous.

Don’s own cock bobbed between his legs, bumping clumsily against the smooth surface of the Battle Shell as he tried to pull his hand free.

“I’m…agh… just give me the lubricant, Raph, please?” Don gasped.

“With pleasure.” Raph grinned. He popped the cap open.

Before Don could look over his shoulder or reach back to grab the tube from Raph, a cold trickling sensation over his tail and taint had him crying out.

Raph chewed on his tongue as he concentrated on the sight before him- thin trails of lubricant drizzling over Don’s tail and settling into his tight, pink hole beneath, then pooling at the base of his plastron where his dick hung down dripping pearly pre-cum.

Satisfied that he had used enough, Raph set the lube down just out of Don’s reach off to the side. Don let out a whine in his throat, too caught in the haze of arousal to verbally complain. Raph grabbed his tail and gave a gentle tug upward.

“Ooohh, whadda we got here? Looks like it’s sayin’ ‘hello.’” Raph drawled, rubbing Don’s tail in one hand and palming himself with the other as he stared at the puckered orifice.

Don blushed, letting his head hang low in submission. He canted his hips up and back towards Raph, his leg muscles tight, standing tip-toed as he strained to lift his ass higher in the air. If Raph was going to play with him before helping him get free from his predicament, he may as well urge the red-clad turtle to get on with it.

Raph circled the outside of Don’s hole with his index finger, squeezing and teasing the soft leathery skin of his tail with the other hand. He pinched the plump flesh between his fingers, rolling the fleshy part of Don’s tail towards the base as he pushed his finger inside.

Don wailed, legs shaking with the effort of holding himself up, his tail twitching in Raph’s grip. He clenched around Raph’s thick forefinger involuntarily, craving something larger.

“Please…Please, Raph-!” Don panted.

With great restraint, Raph slowly pumped his finger in and out of Don’s ass, letting his tail go and reaching down to fondle one of the soft olive globes. He pulled Don’s ass cheek to the side so he could get a good look at Don’s entrance accepting his finger.

“Ya can’t do none a’ this alone, Donnie, just remember that,” Raph’s voice wavered, his own dick aching with need.

“Really? A-a lecture… hnnn-!” Don panted, his tail thrashing back and forth as Raph finger fucked him faster and harder. “N-now of all times…?”

“What, ya…ghh…!” Raph’s dick twitched, the head swollen and dark red. “…ya forgettin’ why yer in this mess in th’ first place?” He pressed down on Don’s prostate, crooking his finger and stroking Don’s soft insides.

Eyes wide, Don cried out as his hips bucked of their own accord at Raph’s ministrations. “Aghnn… N-no, I-I know-! I know!” Raph pushed his finger inside him further, rubbing that magic spot. “Just… PLEASE!”

Raph licked his lips. “Alright, alright…just remember this.” He pulled his finger out, draped himself over Don’s lower carapace.

He lined himself up, rubbing the wide head of his cock against Don’s slick hole. “I always got yer back, Donnie-boy.” With a grunt, Raph pressed Don open, sinking inside with a single slow thrust.

Raph’s low moan, vibrating into a ragged churr, mingled effortlessly with Don’s keening cry. The sound reverberated off the walls of the garage as Raph gave one small quick push of his hips to seat himself fully inside his mate.

Gripping Don’s lower arm with one hand to steady them both and ensure Don wouldn’t bend his trapped wrist awkwardly, Raph pulled back. His cock stretched Don wide, the lubricant making a squelching noise as the head of Raph’s cock nearly popped out again. Nestling his face in the crook of Don’s shoulder, Raph growled as he thrust back in.

“Oh-!” Don yelped, fumbling with his free hand to grab at Raph’s other hand, which he’d braced against the edge of the engine cavity for stability.

Raph rocked back and forth before working his hips into a faster pace, trying to keep his upper body as still as possible so as not to jostle Don too much. Raph pulled his hand free of Don’s grip to blindly feel for Don’s neglected cock.

“Aghh… aghh. O-oh-! Oh, right there, Raph-!”

Raph pulled back just as he managed to grab Don’s shaft, and gave a firm squeeze against Don’s frenulum just as he shoved back inside.

Don gave a high pitched shout before his voice caught in his throat, the sound vibrating in a choked churr just as he squeezed his eyes shut and erupted into Raph’s hand and all over the front of the Battle Shell’s front fender.  
Don tightened around Raph’s cock, the vice like grip massaging him to a quick and powerful climax.

“Ohh…Donnie, fuu-uuck…” He buried his face in Don’s shoulder again as he came, splashing Don’s insides with thick ropes of cum.

They slumped over the engine compartment, breathing hard for some time. Raph regretted that he couldn’t stay draped over Don’s back longer, but he could feel his mate’s discomfort once he softened and pulled out; Don’s shoulders and legs were straining with the effort of holding himself in that bent forward position.

Finally, Raph stood straight and wiped himself clean with a rag and tucked himself back into his plastron. He grabbed the lubricant and squeezed a little on Don’s forearm, massaging it down over his wrist.

Don, bleary eyed, wrinkled his beak.

“You know that’s going to be a pain to clean off of the console here, right?” Don murmured. But all the same, he sighed in relief as the cool lubricant dripped down between his wrist and the smooth metal holding him prisoner.

“Yeah, yeah.” Raph chuckled, still a bit tired himself. He gently held Don’s forearm with both hands, carefully guiding Don to twist his wrist back and forth. Raph braced his grip on Don’s elbow pad before he gave a firm tug upward, and Don’s hand popped free of the metal compartment.

“Ahhh…” Don sighed, flexing his fingers and sore wrist. He held his hand up, a sheepish smile on his face as he turned to look at Raph. “Thanks. I guess I did get a little carried a—whoa!” Don tried to jump down the 2 feet or so to the ground, but his legs crumpled beneath him. He fell forward into Raph’s chest.

“Yer lucky I was here ta catch ya, genius. Or we coulda been contendin’ with a sprained ankle instead a’ just a sore wrist.”

Don’s cheeks heated again. He looked up at Raph, who wore the most infuriating smirk on his face as he held him close.

Don straightened up, not easily, on shaky legs. “Okay… I guess I should’ve used that step stool like you said.” He rubbed one of his quads. “Is it possible to pull a quad AND a hamstring at the same time? Yowch.”

Raph laughed. “C’mon, maybe if yer real nice, I’ll give ya a massage. But only if ya get me up ta date on everythin’ ya wanna prepare for this Triceraton business.”

With that, he scooped his mate up into his arms, heart skipping a beat as Don giggled and nuzzled against his chest.  
“Alright,” Don relinquished. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have some help with that.”

“Ya think?” Raph replied, before giving him a tender peck on the cheek. He carried him towards the bedroom.

The tune-ups on the Battle Shell could wait another day.

WIP Sketch:

(And as a quick plug: you can see my art and sketches on my [Inkbunny](https://inkbunny.net/Plastron) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Plastron_).)


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